Title: Thanksgiving?
Author: Icecat62
Rating: G
Genre: Gen
Category: Holiday
Pairings: None.
Spoilers: None.
Teaser: Pigeon ... the other dark meat.  :)

Standard Disclaimer: Emergency and its characters don't belong to me. I just use them for fun.

Thanksgiving?

By Icecat

Chet walked into the kitchen and spotted his favorite pigeon standing by the counter pouring Roy a cup of coffee. The two men looked happy and relaxed as they chatted.

"Joanne expects you early this year. She wants us to take the kids to the park for a few hours so they won't be underfoot while she makes dinner."

"Roy, we can't let Joanne do it all herself. She's gonna need some help."

Roy took a sip of his coffee and looked at Gage with a slight smile on his face. "Do you remember how we helped her last year?"

Visions of stuffing flying across the room and corn niblets littering the floor in a bright yellow pattern came to mind. Gage snickered. "Yeah, I guess she has a point."

Chet stepped up to them with a big grin on his face. "John sometimes I don't understand you."

Roy looked warily at Chet. Cap, Mike and Marco all pretended to ignore what was about to happen, but in reality they sat back and quietly watched the Phantom beginning to weave one of his magic spells.

Gage frowned at Chet and turned slightly away from him, ignoring the shorter man.

Chet went right for the jugular. "I mean here you are going to Roy's house to celebrate the massacre of your people."

Gage whipped around and stared at Chet, his voice rising in pitch and volume "What?! Chet, what are you talking about?!"

"Thanksgiving John. You go to Roy's, sit at his table and break bread with him. You're celebrating the fact that the white man came over and basically ran off or killed all of your people."

Gage shook his head and loudly set his mug of coffee on the counter. It looked like he was about to begin one of his typical rants, when he paused, then a smile slowly made it's way to his face.

To Chet, this meant that Gage was up to something. To everyone else in the room, they all perked up and paid closer attention. When Gage smiled like that, it meant that he had the Phantom in the palm of his hand. It didn't happen very often, but the results were always worth watching.

Leaning back against the counter, Gage crossed his arms and nodded his head yes. Chet's face screwed up in confusion.

"Ya know Chet, you may be right, but I don't think of it as a celebration of the white man coming to 'our' country and ruining it."

"Wait a second John, we didn't 'ruin' it. Your people were living in tents and eating berries and rabbits. When the white man came he brought houses and all sorts of good stuff over with him."

Gage nodded in agreement again. "Yeah, that's true, but the white man also brought war, pestilence, disease, starvation. Come to think of it, you guys were like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse riding into the neighborhood."

Chet's mouth dropped open. "What?!"

Roy dropped his head to keep from laughing. He could see that his partner was on a roll.

"I wouldn't worry about any of that Chet. I mean look at all of us." He waved a hand around the room. "We all get along and all of us are from different backgrounds. Anyway, Thanksgiving really isn't about the pilgrims and Native Americans any more."

Chet looked slightly confused again. "It's not?"

Roy looked over at Gage, waiting to hear what he had to say. He was a bit curious himself.

Gage's voice had a rather smug lecturing tone to it. "Nope. Thanksgiving is about football and food. Take for instance Joanne. She's probably been planning this meal for a couple of weeks now. She started making the stuff last night and she'll be in the kitchen all day." He grinned at Roy. "I can't wait to eat her stuffing. She makes the best stuffing." He turned his attention back to Chet.

"Anyway...Joanne's doing all this work, cooking and cleaning, setting the table just the right way...and during all of it, how many times will she stop and think of why she's doing it? I bet you if she does, she sure isn't thinking about the pilgrims and Indians, she's worrying if the turkey is dry or if her pumpkin pies have the right amount of spices
in them."

Gage waved a hand at Roy, then placed it on his chest. "Take Roy and me for instance. We're going to the park with Chris and Jenny. Do you think we're gonna be thinking about the pilgrims?" He chuckled. "I don't know about you, but I'm planning on pushing Jenny on the swings and maybe tossing the football with Chris and Roy."

He took his index finger and poked Chet once in the chest. "Be honest with yourself Chet. Your family isn't going to be thinking of the pilgrims. You're all going to be raving about the food and watching the football games."

Gage looked around the room, catching the eyes of all the men. "Every single one of you will be doing the same thing. You'll get up, watch football, maybe do a little yard work and you'll eat until you have feel like you're gonna be sick. That's what Thanksgiving in America is all about. The only time you see the pilgrims and Indians any more is in a kids play or in an advertisement."

He looked pointedly at Chet. "All of the holidays center around food Chet. Thanksgiving is about eating and football. Christmas is supposed to a religious holiday, it's now about Santa and toys. Easter's supposed to be a another religious holiday and now it's about the Easter Bunny and coloring eggs. Halloween was about witches and stuff like that and now it's about candy."

Gage smiled. "Me, I'm going to have a great time tomorrow eating Joanne's cooking and having a nice day with Roy and his family. That's what the holidays are all about to me." With that said, he smiled at Roy and walked out of the kitchen.

Roy set his mug down and smiled at Chet while he shrugged his shoulders. "He does have a point Chet." Roy left the kitchen, leaving Chet standing by himself, the look of confusion turning into one of abject defeat. His pigeon had flown the coop this time.

Turning, he frowned at the three remaining men who were looking at him, all with smiles on their faces. He stomped his way out of the kitchen and headed to the locker room. He might not have won that war, but the next battle was about to begin. He needed to find a good place to plant a water bomb.